Anna came back into the sitting-room with a little sigh of relief. As they left Florence, dying men and women still scrabbled through the streets, screams emanating from the rows of houses, beggars running up to the horses, sick children in their arms, their eyes bleeding, their noses running, begging to join them in their journey out. . “Well!” she declared good-humouredly. Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls.
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